You Bring Light and Second Chances
by viridianjane
Summary: When everyone comes back, Merlin is an old man. (Modern day, reincarnation) [Merlin/Freya]


When everyone finally comes back, Merlin is an old man.

They don't recognize him at first, because although they now know he was Dragoon, the warlock had always had a liveliness to him, a spark, _energy —_ this Merlin is old and tired and in pain.

Lonely.

The catastrophe that brought Arthur and the knights fumbling out of the lake has come and gone; the knights complain that life is boring, and Merlin can finally drink his tea in peace.

The knights have all opted to stay in Merlin's manor, just as much an opportunity to stay together as it is to care for and keep an eye on Merlin.

Magic aside, falling down the stairs and breaking a hip is a serious concern for an old man.

Everyone treats him just as they had before, but with a touch more patience and a heart twice full of compassion, because none of them can really understand living for over a thousand years. They've begun to notice that he is slower to get up in the morning, his hands have a constant tremor, and his lungs give up more than they pull through.

He's getting weaker.

 _Merlin is dying,_ Arthur realizes one morning. Prophecy upheld, peace at last; fate has no need for Merlin any more. _Is the world really so cruel?_

Merlin has a garden of roses and strawberries and wildflowers — nothing that should be able to grow together, but nothing a little magic can't help. It's expansive and whimsical and bright — one of the only things Merlin makes effort to actually tend to, with his limited mobility. A clear summer sunset finds them all sitting in the back garden, on the terrace overlooking the lake. The company has fallen into silence, content to enjoy the moment.

 _Clearly I'm not the only old man here, if you lot have suddenly gained the patience to sit and enjoy nature._

 _No_ , Arthur replies, _it's just you get absurdly grumpy if we make too much noise._

A small voice breaks the silence. "May I sit with you?"

The group turns as one to look at the visitor. It's obvious from her dress that she's not from their time, in a gown of sheer silver and starlight and water. Her hair is dark and hangs in long curls down her back to her waist. Her hands are small and delicate and clean.

Merlin smiles at her, brilliantly and completely. "Of course."

The Lady returns his smile and lowers herself to the bench beside him, sitting close and laying her head on his shoulder.

"Your garden is lovely. I can see all of the colours from the lake."

"Well I hoped you'd like it, they're all your favourites." He frowns, wrinkles and bushy eyebrows all knitting together. "They are your favourites, aren't they?"

She hums, content. "You've forgotten?" At Merlin's pout, she laughs. "I'm just teasing. It's been such a long time." 

They speak of dragons and swords and immortal kings; of magical flowers and stars and caves made of crystals.

The others cannot brings themselves to interrupt, and Merlin and the Lady continue as if they're not even there.

The sun kisses the horizon and finally the Lady stands. "I think it's finally time to go home," she leans down and plucks a rose from its bush. "Are you ready to go, Merlin?"

Now it's Merlin's turn to be the centre of attention. Arthur's heart pounds in his chest, understanding what this moment is. _No, it's too soon. Give us more time._

But Merlin smiles, and it's full of so much _relief_ that Arthur feels his eyes well with tears. When the Lady reaches out a hand to pull Merlin to his feet, it's not the old man that stands, but Merlin as he was in Camelot. Tall and young and full of life. His shoulders are wide and relaxed and held straight, not weighed down by the ages and by isolation.

"My Lady," he smiles, and Arthur turns his head sharply when he feels a tear escape.

"My love," she sighs, and Arthur knows that this is the end.

The Lady takes a teasing step backwards, and Merlin follows, eyes narrowed. He quirks a brow, incredulous and amused, but she only smiles and takes another step away from him.

When Merlin takes another step forward, she throws out a hand and trips him with magic.

"Wha-?" Merlin cries out, flailing his arms in an attempt to catch his balance. She giggles, and Merlin's eyes shine with mirth, grin widening.

"I'll race you," the Lady challenges, and Merlin shakes his head incredulously.

"There's no way you'll win."

"Not if I don't cheat, no." And then Merlin's feet are secured to the ground, roots tangling and knotting and climbing; the lady turns on her heels and starts to run.

Merlin barks a laugh and with a wave of his hand magics the roots away; in a breath, he's chasing after her, running towards the lake.

Arthur watches them fly across the field, further and further away — _so far away; never coming back —_

She shrieks in laughter when Merlin catches her right before the shore, picking her up and holding her close to his chest; she wraps her arms tightly around his neck so not to fall. He walks them down the length of the narrow dock, and stops right at the edge. He kisses her.

He kisses her, and kisses her some more. _I love her, I love her._

Merlin tips backwards off the dock, and the water is not disturbed when they slip below the surface. The last of the sun disappears beyond the horizon, and the earth exhales, warmth and light and magic filling the lungs of those left behind for a single moment.

And then, nothing. Without the sun, the darkness seems too all-consuming; like Merlin took all of the light with him. But Gwen tugs at his sleeve, eyes focused upwards. _"Arthur."_

The stars are brilliant, in the millions and shining purple and blue and gold and silver. The milky way is endless, meeting the horizon directly across from them, in the center of the lake. _Merlin is home._


End file.
